The Prom Date Cometh

By in
No comments

   It’s late in the evening, she’s wondering what clothes to wear.  She puts on her makeup, and brushes her long blond hair.  And then she asks me, “Do I look all right?”

   And I say, “What in the hell am I doing at your house, and in your room of all places?”

   We go to a party.  And everyone turns to see: this beautiful lady, who’s walking around with me.  And then she asks me, “Do you feel all right?”

   And I say, “Not really.  Everyone’s required to attend, anyway.”

   It’s time to go home now, and I have an aching head.  So I give her the car keys, she tucks me to bed.  And then I tell her as I turn out the light:

   I said, “Darlin’, you better get home before your dad comes a-lookin’ for you with his shotgun.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *